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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28511133">i want to share your mouthful</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyoolong/pseuds/honeyoolong'>honeyoolong</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Omi-kun's fingers in mouth plsplspls, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slight Verbal Humiliation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:13:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28511133</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyoolong/pseuds/honeyoolong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>atsumu's oral fixation gets way out of hand.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>610</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i want to share your mouthful</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>whaddup sakuatsu nation.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Atsumu has a problem.</p><p>He doesn't realize he has one until Kiyoomi mentions it. It happens when they're gathered around a camera, the photographer showing them the snaps he took of their team. They were all doing the MSBY pose as usual, everyone’s hands up and fingers curved like imitation claws, and smack dab in the middle of the bunch was Miya Atsumu with his tongue draped out of his mouth. When Kiyoomi sees the photos, he wrinkles his nose underneath his mask and says with no small amount of disgust, “Keep your tongue in your mouth, Miya.” The rest of the team just laughs along.</p><p>Atsumu frowns.</p><p>So he took a bit of artistic liberty with the pose. So what? It’s better than Tomas whose face is so scrunched it looks like he sucked on a lemon, and it’s definitely better than <em> Kiyoomi </em>who’s just staring soullessly into the camera. His hands are too limp to even be called claws.</p><p>“At least I'm getting into the spirit! Whaddabout you, huh? What're ya lookin' so miserable for?”</p><p>Kiyoomi rolls his eyes but doesn't dignify him with a response which means that Atsumu wins this round. Even so, it's not enough for him, not when his number one pastime is getting under Kiyoomi’s skin. Atsumu wants to poke and prod him, wants to get more than this lackluster reaction, but the captain hollers at all of them to gather for the fanmeet and Atsumu doesn’t get the chance.</p><p>Much to his delight (and Kiyoomi's dismay), they end up sitting next to each other at the table. It means Atsumu plays up his flirty side, his voice taking on a little lilt, words drawn out like sticky syrup. Even though the fans seem to enjoy Miya Atsumu flirting with them, Kiyoomi does not. Atsumu is teasing one of the girls for choosing an unflattering photo of him to sign, when he feels the heavy weight of disdain next to him. Kiyoomi snorts softly, unimpressed with this little show he’s putting on.</p><p>Unlike Atsumu, Kiyoomi is polite but curt, even if his voice has a softer edge to it than usual. But even though Kiyoomi is much more professional about it all, he still leaves quite a few of his fans blushing. His mask is on but he still looks handsome; his eyes dark and defined, intimidating in the way he looks at you. Surprisingly, Kiyoomi’s hands are bare, no gloves in sight even with the rows of strangers coming to greet him. Atsumu’s gaze flickers down, watching the marker wiggle back and forth, delicate in that grasp as Kiyoomi signs his name. Those hands are pale and strong, veins visible through his glass skin.</p><p>They’re nice hands, Atsumu admits.</p><p>When they get a break from the onslaught, Atsumu feels the need to make conversation. He leans over, his palm propping his chin up, the marker in his fingers resting on his lips.</p><p>“Yer not wearing gloves, Omi-omi?”</p><p>Kiyoomi furrows his brows as though he expected the question. “It's not as personable,” he grunts.</p><p>It’s a pleasant surprise, especially coming from someone as prickly as Kiyoomi.</p><p>“Hmm, so even someone like you cares 'bout the fans' feelings, huh Omi-kun,” Atsumu drawls.  </p><p>“Shut it,” Kiyoomi snaps back. He glances at Atsumu from the corner of his eyes. “And stop chewing on your pen. Are you a dog?”</p><p>Atsumu startles, not noticing that the marker was in his mouth, that he's been absentmindedly chewing on the cap. When he pulls it out, he's almost embarrassed seeing the teeth marks on there.</p><p>Kiyoomi's eyes are fixed on Atsumu’s lips, staring at the line of saliva as it connects with the pen cap.</p><p>“Disgusting,” he says with a grimace.</p><p>“Sorry'm not a germaphobe like you,” Atsumu shoots back.</p><p>“I'm not a germaphobe. You’re just nasty.”</p><p>They drop it once the second waves of fans come. After Kiyoomi mentions the pen, Atsumu catches himself chewing on the cap as he signs, pen traveling to his lips out of habit. He’s not a fucking dog, it's not like he <em> needed </em> to chew it, but it feels a bit comforting to have the pen there. He doesn’t know why.</p><p>Kiyoomi answers the question for him.</p><p>After the meet is over, Atsumu goes through his gifts and pulls out some candy, his sweet tooth kicking in. He sucks on a lemon-flavored lollipop, and even offers one to Kiyoomi who frowns beside him. “Your teeth are going to rot off,” he says. </p><p>Atsumu just shrugs, sending him back a petulant “suit yourself.”</p><p>He slumps back in the chair, waiting for their manager to finish so that they can pile up on the bus to go home, but from the looks of it, he won’t be done anytime soon. Coach Foster is having too much fun talking to one of the journalists too. Once they get him started, he won’t shut up.</p><p>Atsumu sighs, leaning back in his chair. It’s taking fucking forever and this lollipop can only curb his boredom for so long. Curious, he glances over to Kiyoomi, to see how he’s passing the time, but Kiyoomi seems occupied. Those eyes are glued to Atsumu’s mouth, and it sends a thrill up Atsumu’s chest. He wants to provoke him as usual, some flirty little quip is forming in his head, resting on the tip of his tongue, but Kiyoomi interrupts him before he gets the chance to say it.</p><p>“Do you have an oral fixation or something?”</p><p>Atsumu raises his eyebrows. “An oral— what?”</p><p>“Fixation. Freud.”</p><p>He’s searching Atsumu’s face but Atsumu doesn’t know how to respond. He doesn't want to admit that he never paid enough attention in class to remember anything about Freud aside from that thing about dogs drooling after hearing a bell. Or was that someone else?</p><p>Kiyoomi must notice that the words are lost on him because he sighs. “It means you focus too much on your mouth, Miya. Look it up.”</p><p>He wants Kiyoomi to answer it for him. It’s more fun that way.</p><p>“Are ya sayin’ I have a mouth kink or somethin’?” Atsumu drawls, waving his lollipop around.</p><p>“No. I’m saying you have a problem.”</p><p>Atsumu squawks.</p><p>“But since it keeps your mouth busy,” Kiyoomi continues, “I guess I shouldn’t complain.”</p><p>The blood boils beneath his skin. Kiyoomi always knew how to get a rise out of him, stupid handsome, snarky bastard. “I’ll give ya somethin’ ta complain about,” he mutters.</p><p>Kiyoomi lets out a puff that sounds more like a laugh, and Atsumu just stuffs the lollipop back in his mouth because he can’t think of a better comeback.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu gets curious enough to look it up that night, but it only leaves him with more questions. This oral fixation wasn’t a bad thing, right? This is just some weird quirk that he has? Some habit? He’s not sure if this is something worth getting looked at—if it’s a problem he should get fixed. He doesn’t even know how this all started. Surely if he has it, maybe Osamu has it too?</p><p>He shows up to the restaurant a few days later, and even though Osamu’s face is twisted in a grimace when he sees him, he still makes Atsumu’s favorite onigiri. He sets two of them in front of the seat in the corner, Atsumu’s usual spot.</p><p>“Can ya get me a drink too?” Atsumu asks with a grin, plopping down on the stool.</p><p>Osamu says cuttingly, “Are ya gonna pay for it?”</p><p>“Aw, don’t be so cheap, ‘samu. Aren’t I worth a bottle of tea?”</p><p>“Yer not even worth a glass of water,” he deadpans. But despite all of his grumbling, he places a bottle of tea in front of Atsumu anyway.</p><p>Atsumu grins, taking a giant swig to help him swallow down the rice. </p><p>“So why are ya here?”</p><p>“Don’t be mean! I can’t be here ta visit my baby brother?” </p><p>“Yer only older ‘cause you were in a rush to push yerself out first, stop lording that over me.”</p><p>Atsumu pouts in his chair. He’s going to eat his fill of onigiri today just to spite him.</p><p>When a few of the customers clear out, Atsumu finally feels comfortable enough to ask.</p><p>"Hey 'samu," he calls.</p><p>Osamu grunts in acknowledgement, in the middle of clearing the dishes. Atsumu doesn’t bother to wait until he’s free, and asks him from the other side of the restaurant, "Do ya have an oral fixation?”</p><p>The clattering of the plates don’t stop. “No, but I know you do,” he says.</p><p>“Me?!” Atsumu returns, feigning shock. If Osamu says it, then that only confirms it.</p><p>“Yeah,” Osamu says pointedly. “Aren’t ya gnawing on yer bottle of tea even now?”</p><p>He stops mid-motion, suddenly aware of what he was doing. Shit. He really did have an oral fixation. It’s gotten so out of hand, he didn’t even notice himself giving in to it. Was he teething or something?</p><p>Atsumu pushes the bottle away, far enough that he won’t be tempted to gnaw on it again.</p><p>“I don’t get how I have it ‘nd you don’t.”</p><p>“Maybe ‘cause I’m the normal one.”</p><p>“I’m <em> normal.” </em></p><p>“If you were normal, you wouldn’t be here talkin’ ta me about the oral fixation you have.”</p><p>Atsumu groans. He hated it when Osamu made sense. They were different in lots of ways, of course Osamu wouldn’t share something like an oral fixation too.</p><p>“Do ya think I have a problem?” he asks, watching Osamu putter back and forth as he puts things away.</p><p>Osamu scoffs, not even looking at him. “Well, I think it’s a miracle ya still have all yer teeth.”</p><p>“But do ya think I should get it checked out or anythin’?”</p><p>“Is it gettin’ in the way of anything?”</p><p>Other than him getting embarrassed when Kiyoomi calls him out on it, no. He doesn’t even notice it most of the time. He tells Osamu as much and Osamu just shrugs. </p><p>“Then what’s the problem?”</p><p>“I think <em> I’m </em> the problem!” Atsumu wails dramatically.</p><p>“Yer not wrong about that,” Osamu says, as helpful as ever.</p><p>He doesn’t understand why he always comes to Osamu for advice when Osamu is shit at giving advice in the first place. </p><p>“Forget I asked,” he mutters. And then louder, he says, “Yer customer wants another serving of tuna onigiri.”</p><p>Osamu tosses a kitchen towel at him. “Make it yerself.”</p><p> </p><p>After Atsumu confirms his oral fixation, he catches himself gnawing on pens, on straws, even on his jersey. The last one, he only notices because Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow at him when he sees it. Atsumu is embarrassed at being caught but doesn’t show it. Instead, he sticks his tongue out at Kiyoomi just to provoke him. Kiyoomi doesn’t rise to the bait, he just snorts and shakes his head.</p><p>When the team meeting is over, Atsumu chooses to stay behind to practice. Usually Hinata would be here too, overeager and full of energy as always, but Kageyama is in the area and Tobio-kun always wins out, even if Hinata doesn’t know the bias he has. The rest of the teammates finally head home too, calling it a day. And now it’s just Atsumu and their ace. </p><p>They take a water break in the middle of practicing a few new moves when Kiyoomi says out of nowhere, “Your oral fixation is as strong as ever.”</p><p>Atsumu’s chest does a flip, and he screeches back, “Whaddya mean by that?!”</p><p>Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow and nods over to the water bottle that Atsumu has in his hand, the straw worn down, full of teeth marks. Shit, has it really gotten this bad? </p><p>“Issa habit,” he mutters, taking another drink from his bottle. His face is hot, embarrassment always feeling so much worse when Kiyoomi’s the cause of it. Other than Osamu, only Kiyoomi knows how to get under his skin.</p><p>He glances at him, and his chest does a little flip when he catches Kiyoomi’s eyes stuck on his mouth before Kiyoomi quickly looks away. Atsumu is emboldened by it, smirking around the mouthpiece of his water bottle. “Why’re ya so obsessed with my mouth, Omi-kun? Ya wanna kiss me that bad?”</p><p>Those eyes flicker back to him, dark and defiant. Kiyoomi scoffs. “Not on your life.”</p><p>“Yer loss,” Atsumu says with a shrug. “I heard I’m real good with my tongue.” He sticks his tongue out crudely, almost lewd given the circumstances.</p><p>Kiyoomi’s nose wrinkles up. “I’m not about to be your chew toy,” he says. “I’m leaving.”</p><p>He puts on his team jacket, zipping it all the way up to his neck, and Atsumu just stares as Kiyoomi walks away. Once Kiyoomi’s gone, he plops down on the floor, laughing to himself.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t know why Kiyoomi always seems to be around to observe every single one of his bad habits. He’s there for the popsicle stick, for the straws, for the copious amounts of lip balm. </p><p>He’s here today too, and catches Atsumu partaking in his bad habit again.</p><p>The team is at the yakitori place around the corner this time, and Atsumu gets shoved up against Kiyoomi at the end of the booth. They won the practice match against the Adlers, so everyone’s in a good mood, <em> especially </em>Bokuto, which is dangerous when alcohol is involved. This is already Atsumu’s third beer and he can feel the way his limbs feel a bit tingly, his stomach nice and warm.</p><p>“Why aren’tcha drinking, Omi-kun?”</p><p>If he liked provoking Kiyoomi when he was sober, he liked doing it even more when he was drunk. </p><p>“One glass is enough,” Kiyoomi says back, curt as always.</p><p>Atsumu hums, resting his elbow on Kiyoomi’s shoulder. Kiyoomi flinches first before relaxing, his own habit that he has yet to break.</p><p>“C’mon,” Atsumu eggs on. “One more.” </p><p>“No,” Kiyoomi says back firmly. “And take your chopsticks out of your mouth. You’re done eating.”</p><p>Atsumu startles, not even noticing that he was gnawing on his chopsticks.</p><p>“‘m sorry my table manners aren’t as impeccable as yers, Omi-Omi. We’re not all rich kids like you, ya know.” But even as he says it, he obediently puts the chopsticks down. </p><p>Kiyoomi glares at him, but there is no heat behind it, already used to Atsumu’s jabs by now. </p><p>Now that Atsumu stops fiddling with the chopsticks, he doesn’t know what to do. His mouth feels lonely. He keeps drinking more beer to chase the loneliness away. This might get real bad. Atsumu can already feel the way his body seems to buzz, the heat blooming in his stomach, his words even less guarded than before.</p><p>Bokuto is pouring some more beer into their glasses when Kiyoomi gets up, sliding his mask back over his face. “I’m going to the washroom,” he says.</p><p>He didn’t even leave for a whole minute before Atsumu trailed after him, glass of beer left behind. Atsumu is just looking for some attention, and he wants it in the form of an 80kg spiker named Sakusa Kiyoomi. </p><p>Atsumu slams the bathroom door open. Kiyoomi is washing his hands thoroughly but at the sound of the door, he looks up, catching Atsumu’s eyes in the mirror.</p><p>“Where’ve ya been?” Atsumu asks, a dopey grin on his face.</p><p>Kiyoomi gives him a withering look through the mirror. “You’re drunk,” he deadpans.</p><p>Atsumu doesn’t know what he’s doing in the bathroom. All he knows is that it wasn’t as fun without Kiyoomi there, and even if Kiyoomi had only been gone for a whole sixty seconds, Atsumu was too impatient to wait for Kiyoomi to come back. Kiyoomi’s not even saying anything and it already feels more exciting here.  </p><p>“Omi-Omi,” he says, words sounding a bit whiny. Kiyoomi doesn’t answer, and all it does is make Atsumu even more desperate for attention, wanting Kiyoomi to tell him off or snort or <em> something.  </em></p><p>He walks over, the alcohol making him bolder than usual. He gets touchier after a couple of beers, another one of his bad habits, but usually, it just means he ends up bear-hugging Hinata or prodding his teammates for back massages. </p><p>This is the first time he’s gotten drunk enough to hug Kiyoomi.</p><p>Kiyoomi stiffens, not expecting Atsumu to turn into a koala when he’s drunk, especially not in the men’s bathroom. </p><p>“<em>What </em>are you doing?”</p><p>Atsumu doesn’t answer, his arms wrapped tight around Kiyoomi’s waist. “What th’fuck? Ya work out at home or something too? Why’s yer back so big?” Atsumu asks, his words muffled from where his face is buried in Kiyoomi’s shoulder. They had practically the same strength training routine, there’s no reason why Kiyoomi’s back should feel so much bigger.</p><p>“Get <em> off </em>,” Kiyoomi grunts. “You’re drunk.”</p><p>“‘m not <em> drunk</em>,” Atsumu mumbles. Kiyoomi feels warm and firm in his hold, and he smells amazing too, his cologne or laundry detergent or whatever it is smells aquatic and a little bit zesty. Not the kind of scent Atsumu expected at all. Fuck, he smells so good. It’s making Atsumu’s brain all fuzzy. He really wants to bite Kiyoomi’s shoulder. It’s right here, right in front of him.</p><p>“Miya. Off.”</p><p>Kiyoomi jabs his elbows backwards, hitting right against Atsumu’s ribs, and Atsumu lets out a throaty <em> oof </em>, stumbling back onto his heels. </p><p>“What was that for?” Atsumu asks with a pout, rubbing at his ribcage. He didn’t even get a chance to bite that shoulder, what a waste of an opportunity.</p><p>“Get a hold of yourself. You’re drunk.”</p><p>“'m not drunk!” Atsumu protests, a scowl marring his face.  </p><p>Kiyoomi rolls his eyes.</p><p>“I can smell it on you,” he says. </p><p>Atsumu lifts his shirt at the collar and sniffs at the fabric, but other than the smoke and oil from the grill, he doesn’t smell anything else. “Ya liar,” he says petulantly. “I don’t smell anything.”</p><p>“Because you’re drunk,” Kiyoomi replies simply.</p><p>“‘m not!” Atsumu insists.</p><p>Kiyoomi doesn’t want to argue. He just wipes his hands down on his handkerchief before folding it neatly, tucking it back into his pocket. It makes Atsumu snort. Kiyoomi was always so damn meticulous about everything.</p><p>“Stay here to sober up,” Kiyoomi says, making his way to the door. </p><p>Atsumu panics. He doesn’t want Kiyoomi to leave. It just feels like whatever mission he set out to do hasn’t been accomplished yet.</p><p>In his drunken stupor, Atsumu races to the door, spanning his arms across the frame and stopping Kiyoomi in his tracks.</p><p>Kiyoomi’s brows furrow and he fixes Atsumu with a glare, as if to say “what now?” but Atsumu just stares back with no remorse.</p><p>“Move,” Kiyoomi says.</p><p>Atsumu shakes his head no.</p><p>“Are you looking for a fight? <em> Move </em>.”</p><p>“It’s all yer fault,” Atsumu says.</p><p>It’s silent until Kiyoomi’s brain catches up to him. <em> “Excuse me?</em>” </p><p>“Ya told me I had an oral fixation and now I can’t stop <em> thinkin’ </em>about it.”</p><p>“I wasn’t wrong,” is all Kiyoomi says back.</p><p>Atsumu isn’t paying attention. His eyes can’t stop flickering down to that black mask, staring at the shape of Kiyoomi’s lips behind it, the way it presses against the fabric as Kiyoomi speaks. He has never thought about kissing Sakusa Kiyoomi, but he can’t stop thinking about it at this moment. Atsumu’s tongue starts to feel large and heavy in his mouth, and it might just be the alcohol buzzing underneath his skin but he feels restless.</p><p>“Hey,” he says out of nowhere.</p><p>Kiyoomi doesn’t say anything in response.</p><p>“My mouth feels… kinda empty.”</p><p>The silence is drawn out. Deafening. But then, Kiyoomi says, slowly, “And? Why tell me?”</p><p>“Fuckin’ do somethin’ about it.”</p><p>The air vibrates around them, the room blurred out except for the two of them. He doesn’t know what it is he expects Kiyoomi to do, doesn’t know why he dared to say that in the first place, but his tongue feels awkward in his mouth and he can feel the prickle of irritation in his chest. He needs something, some fix, and he can’t stop staring at Kiyoomi’s mouth moving underneath that mask.</p><p>“What am I supposed to do?” Kiyoomi asks, his voice lower now, speaking from his chest.</p><p>“Just… <em> somethin’</em>,” Atsumu says eloquently. </p><p>Kiyoomi furrows his brows again. “You’ll have to be more precise.”</p><p>It makes Atsumu bold. Bold enough to grab Sakusa’s wrist. This wrist really was amazing, the master behind those nasty snaps that made some receivers shudder. Kiyoomi flinches at the touch, and Atsumu expects him to pull his hand away, but he doesn’t. He must see this as a challenge because he just squares himself, staring Atsumu straight in the face, watching him carefully to see his next move.</p><p>Fuck, Atsumu must really be drunk because his heart is pounding. He’s just staring at Kiyoomi’s hand like it’s a specimen. The hand was pale, but still looked strong, its veins popped up on the back of his hand like rivers, the palm wide and thick, calluses rough from practice. What catches Atsumu’s interest is Kiyoomi’s fingers, longer than Atsumu’s own, long enough that Atsumu would think they belonged to a pianist instead of a volleyball player. </p><p>He brings those fingers up to his mouth.</p><p>Kiyoomi is still staring at him, the frown marring his otherwise handsome features. But he doesn’t stop him. </p><p>Atsumu takes two of those fingers into his mouth and then he sucks.</p><p>There’s a sharp inhale, and Kiyoomi says, gruffly, “You’re kidding me.”</p><p>But Atsumu doesn’t hear him, drunk on the alcohol, drunk on the taste of those fingers on his tongue. There’s a faint smell of soap coming from Kiyoomi’s hand and it only excites Atsumu more.</p><p>Maybe if he was a bit more sober he’d be embarrassed about what he’s doing, but all he can think about right now is how fucking good it feels to have something in his mouth. It’s even better that it’s Kiyoomi, a win-win situation in his book, because he can satisfy his oral fixation and rile Kiyoomi up all at once. </p><p>“Is your oral fixation this bad?” Kiyoomi asks, his voice low, a little breathy.</p><p>His fingers don't move in Atsumu's mouth, but they don't leave either, resigned to Atsumu playing around with them, like they're his chew toy.</p><p>“Shuddup,” Atsumu shoots back. “Fuck, it feels damn good.”</p><p>He groans around those fingers, swirling his tongue all around them. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing but he can't stop, liking the feeling of fullness in his mouth, the heavy weight of those fingers against his tongue. It's not meant to be sexual—this is just supposed to fill a need—but then Kiyoomi's fingers stretch in his mouth, scraping and pressing down against his tongue, and Atsumu's eyes flutter open in shock.</p><p>Kiyoomi is staring at his tongue, gaze betraying nothing. His expression is somewhat clinical, like he’s a doctor and this is just some physical exam, but it’s not a wooden tongue suppressor probing Atsumu’s tongue but his fingers. It feels almost ticklish the way those fingertips rub against him. He can taste the salt of Kiyoomi’s skin the more Kiyoomi strokes.</p><p>Atsumu closes his eyes again, relishing the feel of it, the fullness. And then Kiyoomi flips his wrist over, pressing those fingers against the roof of Atsumu’s mouth. Those fingertips graze against the ridges of his hard palate and Atsumu startles, letting out a moan. It was just a light touch but it sent an electric shock up his spine. He didn’t realize his mouth could be so sensitive.</p><p>Something switches in the air. </p><p>He knows they can both feel it because Kiyoomi's gaze shifts, looking him in the eyes, the kind of condescending look that makes Atsumu feel like he lost this battle. Fuck, he must know that Atsumu's getting off on this. Atsumu can feel his body heating up. He must really be drunk because he can feel his dick pulse the more Kiyoomi plays with his mouth. </p><p>Without a warning, those fingers pull out. </p><p>Atsumu wants to growl, put them back in, but the restroom doors fly open without a warning. “Oh shi— my bad, didn't see you guys here. What's taking you two so long?” </p><p>It’s Meian. His face is a bit more flushed than usual, likely from the last round of drinks, but his sense of responsibility is as strong as ever. He’s probably checking up on the two of them. Kiyoomi must have heard him approaching the door.</p><p>Kiyoomi sends Atsumu a glance, and he sobers up quickly, yelping, “Nothin, Capt’n! I jus’ wanted to pick on Omi-kun a bit.”</p><p>Meian frowns, crossing his arms before he says, "You guys really need to learn to get along. We're all teammates here."</p><p>“Sure thing, Capt’n,” Atsumu responds, putting on his best innocent grin, as though he wasn’t just sucking on his teammate’s fingers in the bathroom of an izakaya. Kiyoomi doesn't look at either of them, fixing his gaze on the wall instead.</p><p>“The team's about to leave soon so get a move on or we're gonna ditch you here.”</p><p>The bathroom door shuts behind him and Atsumu lets out a sigh. Kiyoomi doesn’t give Atsumu a chance to relax before he says firmly, “Leave.”</p><p>Atsumu stares at the fingers that he sucked on earlier, shiny from spit, hovering awkwardly by Kiyoomi’s side. Holy shit, he couldn't believe he did that, couldn't believe Kiyoomi <em> let </em> him do that, what the hell went through his mind?</p><p>“Did you not hear me?”</p><p>He doesn't have a witty comeback the way he usually does, sober enough to feel the shame now. Kiyoomi’s eyebrows are raised and Atsumu sees that expression and hurriedly leaves the restroom. </p><p>The sound of the running sink goes off behind him, Kiyoomi likely washing his hands again.</p><p>Atsumu refuses to look at Kiyoomi the rest of the ride home, sitting in the back of the bus. He pretends to fall asleep so that the rest of his teammates don't bother him, not wanting to make any conversation this time around, but all he can think about is the feel of Kiyoomi's fingers against his tongue. Maybe this oral fixation is getting out of hand.</p><p> </p><p>That night, he gets himself off to the memory of Kiyoomi's fingers in his mouth. He never thought there was a link between his oral fixation and sex—he thought that he chewed and sucked on things just out habit. But that’s only a small part of it, because now, thinking back on it, he always needed to make out with his partners as he came, and he was always more than enthusiastic about oral, on girls and guys alike. Now, it’s like the puzzle is finally coming together, the pieces falling in place. </p><p>Now that he knows his oral fixation isn’t restricted to objects, his mouth feels emptier than ever. He wants it be filled. Wants to taste something. Wants the warm weight of it in his mouth. That need claws at his chest, makes his blood itch, which is why he ends up putting his own fingers in his mouth as he imagines they’re something else. He can’t stop thinking about the bathroom incident, remembering the feel of Kiyoomi’s fingers rubbing against his tongue, the way those knuckles grazed against his palate. The saltiness of it makes him salivate. If he closes his eyes he can picture Kiyoomi staring at him with a mild fascination, his gaze hot, fixated on Atsumu’s obscene tongue.</p><p>Atsumu thinks about sucking something else, imagines the way it would taste, and it makes him come with a gasp.</p><p>Fuck. </p><p>Alcohol’s no longer an excuse for this. He sobered up and he <em> still </em> got off to the thought of Kiyoomi.</p><p>He groans, ruffling his hair in distress, the reality sinking in now that the arousal is gone. Fuck, he still can’t believe he sucked on Kiyoomi's fingers. Annoying, too blunt, always-gets-under-his-skin, Sakusa Kiyoomi. Even worse, he wants to do it again. </p><p>He wants to do <em> more. </em></p><p> </p><p>These thoughts don’t leave him the next day nor the day after that. Atsumu is too far gone now, too addicted to this feeling, a chainsmoker in need of one more cigarette. Straws and lollipops and bottle caps won’t cut it. Not after he’s had the taste of Kiyoomi in his mouth. He’s gotten off to the idea of him more than he wants to admit. It was fine the first day or two, any bit of shame he had shoved deep into the recesses of his brain. But they have practice tomorrow, and the shame finally catches up to him. He doesn’t know how to face Kiyoomi on the court. </p><p>Luckily, Kiyoomi acts like nothing happened. </p><p>Atsumu is partially relieved but also partially annoyed, wanting to rip off the bandaid, get the awkwardness over with. But nothing’s out of the ordinary. In fact, Kiyoomi plays even better today than usual, not like Atsumu who's a little off his game. Even Hinata calls him out on it, with a mild, “We all have our off days, Atsumu-san, it’s okay!” It’s meant to be reassuring, but it just makes Atsumu more annoyed at himself.  </p><p>It wasn't supposed to be this bad. </p><p>Kiyoomi just mentioned the oral fixation casually, a harmless comment. It wasn't supposed to make Atsumu stare at Kiyoomi's lips as he pants, it wasn't supposed to make his own mouth feel dry.</p><p>“Get it together, Miya,” Kiyoomi says, after another one of Atsumu’s failed sets.</p><p>Atsumu prickles, body stiffening like a board. “Everything's fine!” he squawks. “I’m on top of my game!” </p><p>He knows Kiyoomi can see right through him. Atsumu can feel the weight of that gaze on his body, hot and heavy, and he does his best to ignore it, but it’s too distracting. Kiyoomi’s presence is too overwhelming. He can’t stop thinking about those fingers.</p><p>It’s his time to serve. </p><p>And Atsumu serves the ball right into the net.</p><p>“Oh my <em> god</em>,” he croaks. He rakes his hands through his hair, mortified. </p><p>Bokuto is cracking up at him on the other side of the court and Hinata is stuttering and trying his best to comfort him, but all Atsumu can focus on is the puff-laugh that comes from Kiyoomi and the look of disbelief on his face. </p><p>Shit.</p><p>Kiyoomi’s not gonna let him live this down.</p><p> </p><p>After much deliberation, Atsumu corners Kiyoomi in the locker room, just as Kiyoomi’s preparing to shower. The other teammates have already left, leaving just him and Kiyoomi again. Normally Kiyoomi wouldn't stay this late, and normally Atsumu wouldn't either, but Atsumu feels the need to explain his… finger-sucking, and he’s not the type to lay it all out over text. He wants to do it in person.</p><p>“We needta talk,” Atsumu says.</p><p>Kiyoomi gives him a cursory glance before playing dumb. “About what.”</p><p>“Listen,” he continues, as Kiyoomi peels off his shirt. "I was really drunk at the restaurant ‘nd my oral fixation was actin' up, so…” Kiyoomi still doesn't look at him, pulling a towel out of his gym bag. Atsumu has seen Kiyoomi naked before, they've all seen each other naked, but he doesn't know why he can't look away this time. Everyone on MSBY is fit, being athletes and all, but Kiyoomi’s body makes Atsumu lose his train of thought. The guy probably eats chicken breast and sweet potatoes all the time, just as meticulous about his diet as everything else, because he's fucking got <em> abs </em> on top of the sculpted back that Atsumu drunkenly clung on to, holy <em> shit </em>. </p><p>“If you're done, I'm going to shower.”</p><p>That jolts him back to reality. </p><p>Atsumu darts in front of him, stopping him in his tracks, and Kiyoomi’s face twists in annoyance. </p><p>"What now?"</p><p>Atsumu doesn't know what. It feels like they’re back at the restaurant again and Atsumu just wants his attention. He just knows he has more to say, he knows he was going <em> somewhere </em> with this, so if Kiyoomi could at least fucking <em> acknowledge </em> him or something.</p><p>He gnaws on his lip, out of habit, sifting through all of the words in his head for some sentence, <em> any </em> coherent sentence. And then he sees it again, just like he did back at the restaurant. Kiyoomi's eyes glance down briefly, watching Atsumu worry his lips. It sends a hot spike up his chest, makes Atsumu bolder than ever. If he didn't know why he stopped Kiyoomi in his tracks, he sure knows now.</p><p>“Omi-kun.”</p><p>That gaze flits back up. Kiyoomi quirks an eyebrow but he doesn't say anything, and Atsumu says, firmer this time, “Kiyoomi.”</p><p>“What,” Kiyoomi says back.</p><p>Atsumu can’t stop thinking about the way he got off with his own fingers stuffed in his mouth, the way he imagined Kiyoomi in their place. It makes the saliva gather under his tongue, hot and salty, the need to taste Kiyoomi burning deep in his gut. Kiyoomi’s got to be somewhat interested. He’s sure of it. </p><p>Atsumu weighs the words on his tongue for a moment until they feel too heavy, too much for him to hold back.</p><p>“C’n I suck ya off?”</p><p>There's a bit of silence as Kiyoomi processes what Atsumu just said. And then he says, face darkening, “Sorry, <em> what? </em>”</p><p>Atsumu keeps pushing, he can't back down now, his mouth already wants it. He's salivating, his body itching for it. “Omi-kun, I know ya swing my way. Don't ya wanna try?”</p><p>Kiyoomi hasn't budged, hasn't given him either a yes or a no. Knowing him, he likely wouldn't say yes anyway, even if he did want it. He wouldn't ever admit something like that to Atsumu.</p><p>“I need yer help,” Atsumu says, trying to look pitiful. “You should help with the problem ya created.”</p><p>“I didn't create it.”</p><p>Still not a no, though.</p><p>It’s enough for Atsumu.</p><p>He kneels down, the linoleum cold against his knees, and Kiyoomi's gaze follows him, eyes dark and piercing. </p><p>“If ya don't want it, then tell me now,” Atsumu says. “I’ll stop.”</p><p>He tugs Kiyoomi's thighs closer to himself and then he breathes Kiyoomi in. </p><p>
  <em> Fuck.  </em>
</p><p>Atsumu really was salivating, the spit hot as it wets his mouth, the need to taste Kiyoomi overwhelming. Having Kiyoomi right in front of him only makes it that much harder to hold back. He can barely suppress his moan.</p><p>“I need to shower,” Kiyoomi insists, his tone not as steady as Atsumu expects. It sends a thrill through his chest.</p><p>“Nah, I wanna taste ya like this,” Atsumu says, mouthing him through his shorts. </p><p>Kiyoomi is already half-hard and only gets harder by the second, and he lets out a throaty groan as Atsumu moves his lips on the nylon, Atsumu wetting the fabric with his tongue. Kiyoomi's hands fly down, gripping Atsumu by the hair, and it just gets Atsumu more excited, makes him twice as eager.</p><p>“Seems like ya like this more than ya let on,” Atsumu says with a chuckle, still laving his tongue on the fabric. Fuck, Kiyoomi smelled good, even after practice. It's making his own cock stir in his shorts.</p><p>He looks up, sees Kiyoomi's furrowed brows, the way his chest is heaving, and Atsumu pulls on the edge of his shorts, silently asking for permission to tug it down. Kiyoomi doesn't say anything (of course he doesn't) so Atsumu does it anyway. </p><p>He's never taken a good look at Kiyoomi's dick, knowing that Kiyoomi was big only from the way some of their senpais tease him. But shit, seeing it fully hard with the blood rushing and pink at the tip makes Atsumu groan. </p><p>His mouth waters at the sight of it.</p><p>Trust Kiyoomi to groom himself down there too, the hair trimmed and neat, making his dick look even bigger.</p><p>Atsumu can only imagine how it must taste, already thinking about the velvety soft feel of it, the heavy weight of it in his throat. Kiyoomi's dick was going to fill up his mouth, rub every part of it. </p><p>Atsumu can't wait.</p><p>When their eyes meet, it's silent. Kiyoomi's face is slightly flushed but his expression doesn’t give anything away. His abs keep on clenching as he breathes, and it’s one of the sexiest sights Atsumu has ever seen. </p><p>Slowly Atsumu puts his lips on it. </p><p>He gives it light kisses, making it twitch in his grasp, and Kiyoomi's breath hitches above him. And then Atsumu dares to give it one long, wide lick, from the base all the way up to the tip. It's not enough. It only makes him want it more, like he’s parched and all he got was a drop of water.</p><p>Atsumu takes that length into his mouth, groaning at the feel of it. Kiyoomi grips him tighter by the hair, and there's a clatter as he leans back against the lockers, the feel of Atsumu's mouth on him overwhelming.</p><p>If Atsumu was in his right mind he would laugh, happy to have Kiyoomi under his thumb, but he's cock-starved and drunk, heady on the taste of Kiyoomi in his mouth. Fuck, Kiyoomi tasted even better than he smelled. Salty from the sweat, mixing in along with his pre-cum. <em> This </em>is what Atsumu has been missing. He didn't realize everything was preparing him up until this point. All the pens, markers, chopsticks, bottle caps, lollipops—nothing felt better in his mouth than Kiyoomi’s cock. The cock was thick and heavy, rubbing against his cheeks and his tongue. Every time the head grazes against his palate, it makes him moan, shivering at the feel of it.</p><p>Atsumu wants to know how deep he can take the cock in, wants it to stretch out his throat, wants to swallow around it—</p><p>“<em>Shit </em>— holy shit—”</p><p>Atsumu tries again and again, trying to take more of Kiyoomi in each time. God, his brain feels fuzzy. He can feel his own dick twitch, can feel the heat building in his stomach. He could get himself off just like this. </p><p>Slowly, he brings his hands down, dipping inside of his shorts.</p><p>“You're <em> getting off </em> on this?” Kiyoomi puffs in disbelief.</p><p>Atsumu lets out a needy whine he didn't know he had in him, still bobbing his head up and down, one hand wrapped around his dick as he memorizes the feel of Kiyoomi in his mouth. Kiyoomi groans when Atsumu swirls his tongue around him. And when he sees Atsumu’s hand move faster, he chuckles darkly, words condescending. “Your oral fixation is this bad, hm?”</p><p>It's confirmed by a moan around his cock, Atsumu's hands stroking even faster. If he wasn't greedy before, he's greedier now, sucking with relish, opening his mouth and tapping Kiyoomi's cock against his tongue just so he can commit the weight of it to memory. He puts it back in his mouth, tongue trailing across the underside, tracing the veins there. His tongue slides, twisting around the head of Kiyoomi's cock, trying to taste every inch of him, and Kiyoomi lets out a deep throaty groan, his hand gripping Atsumu's hair even tighter.</p><p>“Like that,” Kiyoomi says, voice husky.</p><p>Atsumu looks up. His vision is a little hazy, but he can see the way Kiyoomi's eyes darken, focused on Atsumu's lips and the way they stretch around him. Atsumu’s throat is starting to feel scratchy now, sensitive and raw from where it took Kiyoomi in before. All of it is starting to feel overwhelming. His body feels hot, overheated, and his own hand won't stop moving, fisting his cock faster and faster. But still, his mouth moves just the way Kiyoomi likes it, in and out, tongue swirling around the tip, massaging against the underside. He can feel how wet and messy his mouth is, his lips probably red, his saliva dripping down whenever he pulls off with a pop. It's all so dirty but he loves it, loves how filthy he feels, Kiyoomi’s dark, reverent stare above him, him on his knees, putting his mouth to use like this.</p><p>“What would your fans say?” Kiyoomi says.</p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p>The heat hits him all at once, leaving him breathless, and with a grunt, he tenses up, body stretched tight as he comes, the cum splashing across his chest.</p><p>After that, Kiyoomi takes free reign, grabbing his cheeks with both hands and thrusting his hips, fucking that cock into Atsumu’s mouth. Atsumu just sits there and takes it, struggling to breathe as he chokes on it, his chest heaving from his orgasm earlier. It doesn’t take much longer for Kiyoomi to come himself and Atsumu moans when Kiyoomi releases into his mouth, hot, salty and a tiny bit bitter. It fills his mouth and he swallows it all down, tongue lolling out of his mouth as though he’s showing Kiyoomi what a good job he did. </p><p>Atsumu sits back onto his heels, chest still heaving. </p><p>Kiyoomi tucks himself back in, and then he does something Atsumu doesn’t expect. He grips Atsumu by the chin, fingers hooking along the line of his jaw. Atsumu just looks up, doesn’t know where this is leading. </p><p>Slowly, Kiyoomi dips his thumb into Atsumu’s mouth, rubbing along the edges of his bottom teeth. </p><p>Atsumu obediently opens wider, letting Kiyoomi play with his mouth as he likes, appreciating the feel of something else in his mouth again. Kiyoomi’s thumb thrusts in further, massaging the top of Atsumu’s tongue, and still, Atsumu just leaves his mouth open and willing. </p><p>The expression on Kiyoomi’s face is blank, but his eyes are shining, staring at Atsumu’s lips, at that wet, pink tongue. His thumb rubs against Atsumu's lips now, smearing saliva all over them, painting his lips with it as though it’s lip balm. </p><p>And then Kiyoomi lets go completely, looking away, leaving Atsumu on the floor.</p><p>“I’m going to shower,” he says.</p><p>Atsumu hurriedly gets up, not wanting to end it just like this. He can already feel himself getting hard again. Now that he’s tasted Kiyoomi, he only wants more. He can’t help but stare at his lips, no mask covering them now. They’re red at the bottom, Kiyoomi likely biting on them at some point. He wants to know how Kiyoomi’s tongue would feel, wants to know what his mouth tastes like—</p><p>Kiyoomi’s hands come up, stopping Atsumu’s lips in their tracks, where they were moving in for a kiss. </p><p>“Brush your teeth first.”</p><p>That’s all he says before he heads to the showers, leaving a very stunned Atsumu behind.</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi doesn’t bring up the incident the next day. It seems like Kiyoomi is going to pretend like nothing happened again, and Atsumu is disappointed but tries not to show it. But at the end of practice, Kiyoomi walks over to him as he’s packing up, his face mask on as usual. Atsumu hates that face mask sometimes. He can never guess the kind of expression Kiyoomi has underneath. </p><p>“Here,” Kiyoomi says.</p><p>In his hand is a lollipop.</p><p>It’s bright yellow in a clear cellophane wrapper, the kind that Atsumu’s fans usually buy for him. Kiyoomi places it on the bench, right next to Atsumu’s water bottle, and Atsumu blinks at it in surprise before turning his expression back to Kiyoomi.</p><p>That face is unreadable, but then Kiyoomi raises an eyebrow. Atsumu swears he has a smirk on under his mask.</p><p>Does this mean…?</p><p>“Omi-kun!” he exclaims. </p><p>Kiyoomi is already walking away, his athletic bag slung over his shoulders, and Atsumu grabs the lollipop, rushing after him.</p><p>He reaches Kiyoomi right before the exit, blocking his path. Why is it that Atsumu always has to block him in order to have a conversation?</p><p>“What,” Kiyoomi says.</p><p>Atsumu grins and then boldly sticks the lollipop in the elastic of Kiyoomi’s face mask, the rubber band keeping it in place. </p><p>“I’ve got somethin’ better to suck on already,” Atsumu says with naughty smile and a wink.</p><p>Kiyoomi snorts, grabbing the candy out from his mask and sticking it back into the pockets of Atsumu’s shorts. </p><p>“Do you, now?”</p><p>He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to either. Atsumu grins as he watches him go, and then he rushes back to his bag, rummaging through it for his phone. </p><p>He gnaws on his water bottle as he texts with one hand.</p><p><strong>To: Omi-Omi<br/></strong> so…<br/>can i come by tomorrow? (人´∀｀)．☆．。．:*·°</p><p>He gets a text back within minutes.</p><p><strong>From: Omi-Omi<br/></strong> 7 P.M. <br/>Brush your teeth.</p><p>Atsumu grins, putting the phone back into his pocket.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am a longtime twitter lurker but do I want to be perceived yet???? idk.</p><p>thank u for reading</p></blockquote></div></div>
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